


hurry now and don't be late, 'cause we ain't got time to chat

by philthestone



Category: Avengers: Infinity War (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, I love every single one of these characters with my whole entire heart, Missing Scene, local author watched infinity war for a third time; had to cathart thru fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 21:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15276795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philthestone/pseuds/philthestone
Summary: Tony says,Quill, keep it together, like that's going to make a lick of difference, like he doesn't know intimately what is about to happen next in a way most people can't.It seems like there’s always someone out there whose day is shaping up to be harder and longer than yours.





	hurry now and don't be late, 'cause we ain't got time to chat

**Author's Note:**

> i rewatched infinity war for a 3rd time earlier this week because my mom wanted to see it and it reminded me yet again how much i love tony's character, and how rdj and chris pratt's respective performances were among my absolute favorites in the movie (alongside .... literally everyone else's, lmao)
> 
> timeline is a missing scene from the movie, after tony and co run into the guardians but before thanos shows up on titan
> 
> title is from rubberband man by the spinners and reviews are antidotes to sadness

Overall, Titan’s a depressing kind of place. 

It fits the general mood. The air’s good enough to breathe -- or at least, it isn’t bothering any of the space invaders, and Tony’s not sure if that should concern or relax him -- but it’s filled with dust and debris and the low grav is leaving his stomach unsettled. Pete seems to be okay despite the truly devastatingly weird circumstances, and it’s not enough to help settle his gut, but it’s better than the alternative. Just -- the kid’s curious face is too real here in front of him. It’s making this all too real.

This -- song and dance. This adventure. This terrible feverish anxiety dream that he hopes Pepper’s going to wake him up out of sometime really  _ really _ soon.

If not, well -- Tony’s having what is shaping up to be the longest goddamn day of his entire life.

And the weirdest, too. He’s had strange days, sure -- strange  _ weeks _ , strange  _ months _ , your usual fair when you spend your time building high-tech AI superhero suits and once saved the world from alien invasion.

Going out into space to meet the aliens on their home turf is a whole other baseball league, though.

The thing is -- and this should be in a fortune cookie or something, which means he’ll probably use it on the kid at least once and never tell Pepper he did -- it seems like there’s always someone out there whose day is shaping up to be longer.

Star-man’s plan wasn’t anywhere near as insane as Tony thought it would be, which is contributing to making the whole situation less fever-dream-like. Not a good thing, for the record. That, and the fact that Tony’s no idiot, and God people can say he’s self absorbed but context is  _ context.  _ He can see the tremble creeping into the younger man’s hands when the plan’s spelled out and covered and Peter and the cute bug girl climb to the top of one of the collapsed structures to jump up and down in the low grav like they’re on a trampoline. He can taste the edge of hysteria in the air, because he’s a seasoned veteran in this crap, or something. That’s what Cap would say. Bastard.

Easy to make judgements is the  _ point _ , Tony thinks tiredly, when you’re sitting on one side of the fence. 

To his left, Pete whoops, apparently topping bug girl’s record for highest bounce. Bald guy is laughing uproariously, as though they’re not all standing around waiting to risk everything they know in one potentially profoundly stupid movie. 

Strange is -- meditating. God. Tony doesn’t know. 

Quill, though -- self-assured is the wrong word to use for earlier, but there was some confidence in the guy’s act, at least. The whole -- team leader schtick, maybe, or the retro facial hair. There’s a niggling voice at the back of his head, something about his second year of MIT and Rhodey making him stay up late to look at some obscure newspaper article: Local Southern Kid Abducted By Aliens Question Mark? 

“Finals are in a week, so we’re going to speculate about aliens existing,” Rhodey had informed him. 

Tony sniffs, squares his shoulders, ignores the memory outright; it’s making him miss Rhodey way more than he needs to right now.

So anyway: Quill. Standing to one side fiddling with his gun like it holds all the secrets to the known universe, like Tony can’t see that the poor guy’s hands are shaking like he’s coming off a particularly bad caffeine high. Tony remembers the chaotic conversation in the donut of doom and exhales because he hates his job, just a little. Still -- easier to do this than to think about how the world might end in an hour on his watch.

“So, Missouri, huh?”

A startle -- Tony could see it coming a mile away -- and Quill looks lost and confused for half a second before his face settles into a frown.

“Yeah?”

“Just -- long way from home.”

He snorts; on the defensive. “I ain’t tellin’ you my life story, man.”

Tony nods, sucks at his lips through his teeth. “No, you’re -- right -- just. We’re waiting around. Figure it’s a good time to get to know the cavalry.” He sniffs. “Good plan, by the way. Better than mine.”

Quill’s still eyeing him suspiciously, which Tony figures is profoundly annoying because  _ has _ he been anything but fair and cooperative and really great at playing with others? Fury would be so proud. It ticks him off just thinking about it. 

Something in the suspicious expression shifts, though, and Tony figures this guy must be resourceful as hell to have stayed alive out here this long because he can practically see the repressed fracture in his eyes. The jaw clench. God -- it’s all right there.

How long’s it been, he wonders -- how long have they been running around, interrogating idiots in flying pastries like the world is ending?

He looks over at the kid again, a quick glance: he’s laughing. Mostly unconcerned about having eggs laid in him now, Tony guesses. He wishes Pepper were here, and then hopes she’s as far away from all of this as humanly possible, and then turns to Quill again.

The guy looks like he’s gone through all five stages of grief in the second it took for Tony to check in on his stowaway and is now failing badly at schooling his expression into Leader Of Whatever The Hell again. He’s staring at a point off Tony’s shoulder, and Tony swallows, roughly, something sticking in his throat. The orange-red sky is making him think of Pep’s hair and the concern in her voice whenever he’s strung himself out in the past, near the edge, spending days in the workshop to distract himself from Everything Else.

“For God’s sake, could you do that three feet to the left?” comes Strange’s voice. The guy’s clearly not used to meditating with two flying bodies trampolining above his head, Tony guesses.

Quill clears his throat suddenly and Tony look back at him. Jaw set, chin up -- faked bravado is also one of Tony’s old friends, though he’s better at it than this guy, if he might say so himself. His always has style, finesse. Quill’s looks like it’s had the life kicked out of it. He starts fiddling with the gun again. 

“Your guys better be on it when the time comes,” he says, eyebrows raised, like Tony’s supposed to buy the fact that he’s relaxed, in control, dangerous or something. Maybe half of one of those is true. 

Tony feels his throat work weirdly at the attempt. It’s not even a half-bad attempt. 

It’s just -- he’s seen it before.

“Yeah,” says Tony. He doesn’t take the bait; understands. “Hey -- it’ll all work out.”

Silly -- useless bunch of words. Still, Quill looks a bit like he’s shocked him with a live wire. The tremble’s come back to his hands, almost invisible.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little hoarse, and nods, finally. Tony sniffs -- nods back.

“Okay. Good -- great. I’m gonna -- kid might fall off that thing. You’re not worried about your man?”

Quill still looks lost, just a bit -- Tony wonders if he used to look that way, at Pepper or Rhodey, or Bruce, or even Steve. He left them all -- left them all back on Earth. Bruce had been shaking, when he first showed up. But he watches as Quill shakes himself, finally managing to ease back into a semblance of his earlier pluck. He holds Tony’s gaze for another half second before he raises his voice so that the rest of the group can hear:

“Mantis’ll be fine. She’s got a great sense of balance.”

“My sense of balance is wonderful, yes!” yells Mantis, floating back into the air and grinning her weird grin that’s chock full of what Tony can only assume is bug lady delight. Pete’s looking at her a little bit in awe, like he’s still processing the fact that he’s now sort of allies with a bunch of whacko aliens. Bald guy is laughing yet again, which seems to be a running theme, here.

Not the worst theme in existence, Tony supposes.

He glances back; Quill looks distracted again, fingers gripping what looks like the pommel of a sword on his belt. But he seems to sense Tony’s gaze, looks up, clears his expression real quick. 

“We should get in position,” he says. “Tell the wizard, maybe.” His knuckles are white against the engraved metal. Tony looks back at Peter’s smiling face.

It’ll all work out, Tony thinks, a little bit desperately. It has to all work out.

 


End file.
